


Know When To Hold'em

by drpepper23



Series: One Chance Ian and Mickey [1]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-17
Updated: 2014-08-17
Packaged: 2018-02-13 15:13:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2155245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drpepper23/pseuds/drpepper23
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ian Gallagher has been watching Mickey Milkovich for months. Their first meeting goes nothing like he expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Know When To Hold'em

Ian walked into TomatoHead's house with three things on his mind: alcohol, food, and Mickey Milkovich. He’d been watching the other man for a couple of months now, but had never gotten the courage to say hello. 

He was sure Mickey was there, as Mickey was always there, and to be honest, Ian loved seeing the other man in action. He commanded the card tables, and any game he decided to play, he won. 

All Ian’s senses seemed to kick into overdrive, everytime he watched that slight lift of Mickey’s eyebrow, or that sharky smirk on Mickey’s face, whenever the other man went in for the win. 

Ian could feel the anticipation curling in his stomach, as he made his way through the crowd, marveling at how watching Mickey Milkovich had somehow become one of his favorite habits. 

It was after three in the morning and all the late nighters, who still wanted to party, were still coming through the door. TomatoHead’s house had been the after hour spot, since before Ian was born, and just about everyone on the Southside had hung out there at one time or another. 

It was the perfect place to relax, play cards, and get good alcohol and food after everything else had shut down. 

The house was packed with all sorts of legal and illegal activities, taking up every square inch of the place. Ian took in the multiple card tables, pool tables, games of dice, and even some high-stakes video games. He felt an ease settle over him, as he waved to a few regulars in the corner. 

Walking to the made-up bar, he ordered a shot of jacks, a cold beer, and a plate of wings. Looking around at the amount of profitable activity, Ian figured TomatoHead easily took in two to three thousands a night. 

He downed his shot and snatched up his beer, his throat burning from the feel of alcohol making its way down his esophagus. His whole body tingled from the feel of it, and he knew he needed to put some food in his belly soon. 

His wings would be ready later, and Rim, the guy who did most of the cooking, would find him when they were. 

His eyes zeroed in on the table where Mickey Milkovich sat, and his body tingled all over again. Mickey looked like he was ready to start a new game and Ian sighed as butterflies did ballet inside his stomach. Something about Mickey seemed to make every organ inside him melt, and Ian moved like a lovesick glob of goo in the other man’s direction. 

It looked like his game of choice tonight was spades and Ian finally saw the opening he’d been looking for. Mickey needed a partner. Mickey always needed a partner, as he usually berated, and sometimes even beat into the ground, the person he was playing with. 

No one could stand it for long, and he was often referred to as one-shot Mickey, because one fuck-up, and you were dismissed. He was notorious for never playing with the same partner twice, but Ian hoped to change that. 

He pulled out a chair and sat directly in front of Mickey, letting him know that he was auditioning for the role. 

Ian finally looked at the other two guys at the table, and swore under his breath, as a feeling of complete dread overtook him. Brain and Colman. Shit. Fuck. What the hell? Literal sweat formed on his forehead, and Ian began to rethink his decision of sitting down. 

Brian and Colman had been playing together for over twenty years, and had never lost a game. Ian had no idea how they did it, but he knew he wasn’t good enough to go up against two legends such as them. 

Brian saw the look on Ian’s face and smirked. “Don’t shit your pants, kid, it’s one-shot Milkovich we’re after.”

Mickey smiled wide, looking way to confident, playing against two guys who’d been partners almost as long as he’d been alive. “Well, spades not usually my game of choice, but we’ll see how I do with, firecrotch, over there.”

Ian wiped sweaty hands on his jeans and then picked up his beer and downed the rest in one gulp. This was so not what he’d planned for his first time sitting down with Mickey. He knew spades, he’d certainly played it enough times, but no way was he on the same level as Mickey and these guys. 

He thought about getting up, but didn’t want to seem weak in front of Mickey, plus he knew doing so would ruin any chance he had at staring something deeper. So he rolled his shoulders, sat up a little taller, and singled for another beer. 

Mickey hit him with a look that could curdle milk and Ian felt his insides burn. “Better know what you doing, slim. Hundred dollars just to sit down.”  
Ian reached inside his pocket, thinking what a good thing it was he’d just gotten paid. He fished the hundred out, and added it to the other three already on the table. Winner took all. If he and Mickey won, that would be two hundred apiece. 

Rim came over with his food, and that’s when all the commotion stared. He set Ian’s beer and plate of wings down, then his eyes shifted to see who was at the table. 

“Holy shit,” he yelled out, making everyone quiet down and turn his way. “Fucking one-shot Milkovich and the dynamic duo are playing against each other.” he pulled a notepad, from under his apron, and waved it in the air. “Taking bets, right now I’m taking bets.” 

The place exploded, with everybody calling out numbers, and placing wages. Ian sunk deeper in his seat. All he’d wanted was a small piece of Mickey, not to be caught up in some monumental bullshit. 

He looked at Mickey to see the other man, taking money out his pocket, and giving it to Rim. Fuck it then. He sat back up and squared his shoulders. If Mickey believed in them, so would he. He took out another hundred and placed a bet on him and Mickey. If they won, they’d be walking out a lot richer than when they’d walked in. 

About a million phones were whipped out, as everybody seemed to want this history making game on film. Fucking great. Ian blew out a breath, his head jumping from side to side. The last thing he needed was his defeat caught on tape. 

He looked up, to see Mickey staring holes in him. He must have read the look on Ian’s face, because it was only a second later, that he stood up and shouted into the crowd. “This shit ain’t for YouTube or no shit like that. Put your fucking cameras up or I’ll shove’em up your asses.” There was a little resistance, but TomatoHead liked to keep the peace, and so he threatened to show anyone the door who didn’t comply.

Feeling a little better, but still not all that great, Ian watched as Colman shuffled and Mickey cut. He cracked his neck and picked up his cards, praying for a good hand. The king and queen of spades, ace of diamonds, and king of clubs, looked like the best cards he had, and he counted each one as a book. 

He looked at Mickey and saw that the other man was smiling and arranging his cards. Ian knew that meant Mickey had at least one of the three jokers. 

Brian’s face stayed neutral, but him and Colman seem to communicate on another plan of existence anyway, as they simultaneously announced that they’d be going board, (only four books). Ian’s head snapped up and he looked at Mickey wondering just what kind of hand his partner had. 

“Ten,” Mickey said not consulting Ian in the least. Ian dropped the wing he’d been holding as if it’d burned him. “What the fuck, Mickey? Maybe ask me before you decide some shit like that.”

A shocked hush went over all those in hearing distance, as no one who wanted to live, talked to Mickey like that. Ian leveled Mickey with a death stare and Mickey looked back with an amused smirk on his face. Ian’s furrowed his eyebrows. 

The other man didn’t look mad, if anything his look read impressed. Something about Ian seemed to impress something in Mickey and Ian shook his head, because who knew what the fuck was going on in that Milkovich mind of his. 

He cocked his head to the side and Ian easily read that as, “don’t worry, I got this.” So he let the tension leave his body, set his cards like he wanted them, and put all his trust in Mickey Milkovich. 

It all came down to the last two cards. Ian and Mickey had nine, while Brian and Colman had two. If they made the last two books, then they’d win the first hand, and Ian and Mickey would fall way behind. If Ian and Mickey made one more book, then they’d win the first hand, and Brain and Colman would be the ones playing catch-up.

Ian looked at his cards. He had a four of diamonds and a three of clubs. No way could he win anything with that shit. He looked to Mickey, his newfound partner in crime. Somehow he and the other man had been on the same wavelength all night. 

A twitch here, an ear scratch there, and they each seemed to know exactly what the other man wanted to do. Ian rolled his eyes toward the ceiling, letting Mickey know he was bust. Mickey swiped a thumb across his nose, letting Ian know he was still in the game. Ian nodded in relief, but a smirking Colman brought it all crashing down, when he threw out the jack of spades.

Ian felt his whole world crumble as he tried to remember how the cards had fallen. No way in hell could Mickey beat that. So it all came down to the last card. He threw down his four of diamonds and looked to Mickey, to see the other man still smiling and smirking. Brian put down the six of hearts and Mickey finished with the four of Spades.

Shit. They were at the make it or break it point, where the game could go either way. Mickey was still smiling and smirking and Ian was seriously starting to question his mental state. Colman threw down the eight of spades as if he was placing a million dollars on the table. 

Ian and Mickey shared a mocking glance at his expense and then Ian threw out his three of clubs, praying like hell Mickey’s confidence wasn’t misplaced. 

Brian threw out the five of clubs and Mickey looked at the other three cards on the table and then to Ian. The twinkle in his eye told Ian everything he needed to know, and he was out of his chair before Mickey even placed the third joker down on the table. 

“Yes, Yes,” he and Mickey slapped hands across the table before sitting back down and gathering the cards up. 

Brian and Colman looked way to smug and Ian found out why, when the former began to speak. “Fucking armatures,” he said, looking at Colman. “They win one fucking hand and act as if the whole game is over.”

Mickey lit up a cigarette and passed it to Ian. “We ran a ten and set your ass, you ain’t got no room to talk no shit.”

Colman shook his head. “You’re right, Brian, fucking armatures.” He turned to Mickey. “All you did is make us want to work that much harder to bury your asses. Big deal you set us in the first hand. Just means we got the rest of the game to stomp your ass.” 

Mickey’s eyes turned serious. “Game on then, motherfucker.” 

They played good, and they played hard, but still, halfway through, Mickey and Ian were set. Fuck. Ian looked to Mickey to see the first look of concern on the other man’s face. Fuck. 

Mickey bit his bottom lip, then squared his shoulders. “Fuck, that shit, slim, we ain’t going out like that. We got this.”

Ian wasn’t so sure and his face must have showed it. Mickey smacked a hand on the table. “Hey, slim. Look at me. I said we got this, okay. Just keep doing what you been doing all night. We got dealt a bad hand, but fuck if we go down without a fight.”

Ian let a slow smile spread across his face. If Mickey could put that much faith in them, then the least he could do was try. It was his turn to deal and he threw the cards out, hands sweaty, as if he’d been out in the sun all day.

Once again, it came down to the last book, of the last hand. Expect this time, the book determined the whole game. Crowds formed around them, as someone undefeated was going down tonight, be it one-shot Mickey, or the dynamic duo, either way, history was ready to be made. 

Brian looked to Colman, and whatever he saw in the other’s man face caused him to smile wide. 

He threw out the ten of hearts and didn’t even flinch when Mickey threw out the queen of hearts on top of it. Ian looked at his hand and then back to Colman, depending on that one card in his hand, a pair of legends could go down and a new pair could rise. 

Ian held his breath, as Colman held up his card and threw it on the table. The fucking ace of heart, that fucker had been holding the fucking ace of heart throughout the whole fucking game. 

Ian looked from Colman to Brian and felt a new respect for them, because he knew that the way the cards ended, had more to do with their maneuvering and trick plays, than how the card’s actually fell. 

He looked at Mickey, whose eyes were glued to the table, where Ian would throw down the last card. Ian looked at his card and around the table. His eyes locked with Mickey's, and the other man lay an open palm on the table, telling Ian to play. Ian took a cleansing breath and then smacked the three of spades down.

Everything was quite for about half a second and then the whole house erupted in either cheer or jeer, depending on how they’d betted. 

Mickey let out a victorious roar, and rushed across the table. Before Ian knew it, the other man had lifted him in the air, and was spinning him around. “Yes, yes,” he said, over and over again. Ian laughed aloud and then looked around. 

Everyone was either talking to the dynamic duo, or gathered around Rim, counting their money. No one was paying any attention to them, and Ian decided to seize the moment. 

Mickey was short, but the fucker was strong as hell, as he didn’t even seem to be breaking a sweat, as he held Ian up in his arms. Ian looked around again, just to make sure, then put his hands on either side of Mickey’s face and went in for the kill. 

Mickey lips were soft, and warm, and he yielded for all of three seconds, before pushing Ian away, and looking around the room. No one saw, or at least if they did, they didn’t seem to give a fuck. 

The whole place was hype, and soon both Ian and Mickey were crowed with people wanting to shake their hands, and congratulate them. Ian felt good all the way down to his toes, and he looked at Mickey, to see the other man smiling his way. 

Ian smiled back, and they stayed locked like that for a few seconds, until he caught Brian and Colman looking their way. It was weird, because the other two men didn’t seem half as upset as he thought they’d be.

He inclined his head their way, and soon both he and Mickey stood in front of them. “Good game,” Brian said, holding out his hand. Ian shook it, proud to have played and won against such legends. 

Colman shook Mickey’s hand. “How long you two been playing together?” he asked.

Mickey and Ian shared a surprised look. “Never played together until tonight,” Mickey shrugged. 

Brian and Colman shared a knowing look, which confused the fuck out of Ian. “Never?” Brian asked. 

“Never,” Mickey answered. 

They looked at each other again, and this time they smiled. “Exactly how we first hooked up. Had never even said two words to each other. Sat down, stared playing, and twenty years later, we’re still going strong.”

Ian looked at Mickey and wondered what that meant for the two of them. Brian reached inside his wallet and pulled out a card. “Get in touch after you’ve played together for awhile.”

Ian reached for the card and read it over. “Twenty thousand, just to sat at the table, are you fucking kidding me?”

Colman shook his head. “You want to play with the big boys, you got to pay like the big boys.”

Brian nodded his agreement. “You got potential.” He ran a hand over his face and looked from Ian to Mickey. “Twenty years of playing together and we ain’t never handed out that card. Do with that what you will.” 

Ian felt something inside him soften, as he watched the dynamic duo disappear into the crowd. He stuck the card in his pocket, and turned to Mickey, who pointed in the direction of TomatoHead and Rim. “Let’s get our money and get the fuck outta here, yeah?” 

They left TomatoHead’s house together, drunk as hell, and pockets filled with their winnings. Ian started in one direction and Mickey pulled him the opposite way. “Come on, I don’t live far from here.”

They stumbled down the sidewalk, each supporting the other, loud talking and boosting about their win. Once they were a good ways away, Ian looked around to make sure no one was near, and then grabbed Mickey by the waist and pulled him close. 

Mickey looked around, saw they were alone, then grabbed Ian by the back of the head, crashing their lips together. Mickey tasted like cigarettes, and Jack Daniels, and Ian moaned into his mouth as the feeling of raw desire consumed him.

Mickey pulled away, and Ian stumbled to stay upright. “Alright, slim, save it until we get inside.” Mickey grabbed his hand, and led him farther up the sidewalk. They stopped in front of a house that had been turned into two apartments. Mickey lived on the left. 

Once inside, they quickly shed their clothes, making their way to the bedroom. “Being watching you for months,” Ian said, grabbing a naked Mickey and kissing along his neck. 

Mickey let out a soft grunt and then pushed an equally naked Ian down on the bed. “Think I hadn’t noticed you too, firecrotch?” 

Mickey straddled his hips, as their lips met again. “Fuck,” Ian said, not able to handle the emotions his body seemed to be producing, from the feeling of a naked Mickey Milkovich sitting on top of him.  
“Got lube and condoms in the draw,” Mickey said, as he planted kisses down the whole of Ian’s body. 

Ian pulled Mickey to him and they shared another mind-blowing kiss. “Want you so fucking bad,” Ian mumbled. He had one hand around Mickey’s waist and the other tangled in his hair. He’d never felt so good in his life, and was content to just lie there forever, soaking in the feel of Mickey Milkovich.

Mickey on the other hand, had other plans. He reached into the nightstand and pulled out the condoms and lube. “Fucking hurry up and get on me, Gallagher. I ain’t got all night.” 

Ian smiled, and spared a brief moment to acknowledge the fact that Mickey did in fact know his name, before lathering two fingers with lube, and getting Mickey ready.

It was like sweet heaven when Mickey finally sunk down on him, and Ian had to stay still for a full three seconds to keep from cumming on the spot. Slowly Mickey began to move, and suddenly their pace quickened, and the two of them were ripping each other apart. Mickey was so fucking tight and so damn hot and Ian had never felt anything so fucking good in his life.

It was almost animalist, the way they tore into each other, each giving it their all, neither able to get enough. Finally, they were both falling over, and Ian felt as if he’d just been handed the keys to a very large castle. 

Completely exhausted, they collapsed, satisfied and sated. Breathing heavy, Mickey curled to his side, and Ian instantly wrapped his arms around the other man, kissing behind his ear, and sighing contently. “Guess there’s a new legend in town, hmm,” he mumbled, and Mickey’s laugh came out tired but happy.

“Guess they can’t call me, one-shot Mickey, no more, huh?”

Ian squeeze him even tighter, as he knew that was the other man’s way of letting him know, that this shit wasn’t ending anytime soon.

He kissed a shoulder blade and rested his head in the crock of Mickey’s neck. “I guess not,” he said softly into the other man’s hair. “Or we can both be called one- shot now,” Ian chuckled lightly. 

Mickey laced their hands together and gave them a squeeze. “One-shot Ian and Mickey. I like the sound of that.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, I know this was a little different, but I hope you guys enjoyed. Thanks for reading.
> 
> Title from, "The Gambler"


End file.
